grinningdeath

I stare into the sun and it smiles,
but not at me.
How can an amoeba like myself hope to catch the attention of a celestial body?
Am I so wretched that even the sun's rays won't touch me?
Why won't it singe me?
Why can't I burn?
Perhaps if I scream until my protoplasm bursts, it will catch a whisper in its lava filled ears.
Until that time, I wait in my murky existence for any acknowledgement.
A wink.
A kiss in the air.
Anything...